Fever
by scarylolita
Summary: Craig always lets his anger get the best of him and Clyde is getting tired of it. Slash.


**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **This was supposed to be a short plotless drabble with around 2K words… but then it was longer haha. Still pretty plotless tho.**

 **Clyde/Kevin and eventual Clyde/Craig**

 **Warnings: OOC, pwp**

 **All Clyde's POV**

* * *

Craig has anger problems. Perhaps that's an understatement. Sometimes he just fucking blows up. I remember he had to get hauled off by the cops after he got into a fight at the clearing a few summers ago. He struggled as they hand-cuffed him and forced him into the back seat of the police cruiser. He started screaming and kicking the steel mesh cage that separated him from the cops in the front seat. Everyone just kind of stared until the car drove off. It didn't do much good and soon enough he was released because he was only sixteen.

He's nineteen now and he's just as much of a violent brat as he's always been. He goes to therapy, where he tries to work out his issues… but it hasn't done much to help yet. It mostly makes him worse. They do these stupid role-plays that always work Craig up to unimaginable lengths.

He has a lot of temper tantrums. He's not shy about it, either. He's had a lot of temper tantrums back in school. I remember the first time I saw him was in the school parking lot on the first day of grade four. My parents came to drop me off and Craig was the kid who had his ass glued to the pavement. He didn't want to go to school and he was making a pretty huge scene about it. He was home schooled and his parents thought it was time he got socialized… though it was a bit too late.

Truth is, Craig once told me he loved me and I know it meant a lot for him to say that. I told him that maybe I loved him, too, but I wasn't sure. Either way, I didn't want to _be_ with him. That made things tense for a while.

I don't know how he feels about me now. I don't know if he might've moved on, but I know I still feel the same.

I think it would make a nice story – two best friends who fall in love and end up together. Cliché, but nice.

I think his parents kind of fucked him up, though. Now he thinks he can't have normal things. They didn't do it on purpose, but it still happened. Parents often don't try to mess up their kids, but they do anyway.

Craig still lives at home. We're still pretty young, but sometimes I think he's scared to leave. He doesn't trust himself.

I moved out as soon as I was finished high school. I live in a share house with my ex-boyfriend, my ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend. Yeah, it's a pretty fucked up situation, but it's actually not as bad as it sounds. We're all friends at this point. Life in a small town kind of forces you to get over your disagreements. If not, it'll only make it harder when you inevitably run into the people you're trying hard to avoid.

It's not bad, though. It's nice to live with people. Then you're kind of forced to be social, even when you'd rather not be. I'm pretty extroverted, so I'm lucky. Craig, on the other hand, is a complete introvert. He's bad in social situations and he's bad with relationships.

I don't want to go ahead and assume anything, but I'm pretty sure Craig is a virgin. I don't think he's even been kissed.

I myself have only slept with two people. My first time was with Bebe Stevens. We were fourteen and it was a horrible mess. We were both totally clueless. It got better as time went on, but we eventually broke up because we both cheated. I guess we could have gotten over it if it was for some other reason, but we cheated because we weren't in love.

I slept with Kevin Stoley and Bebe slept with Kyle Broflovski. I guess I realized I was probably gay and she realized that her childhood crush on Kyle's ass came back. It happened last year.

When me and Bebe broke up, she started dating Kyle and it must be going well, 'cause they're still together. So, I tried dating Kevin. I felt like that was the natural thing to do. After graduation, we were still happily dating and Bebe was still happily dating Kyle. Thus, the four of us decided to get a house together since we had been saving up throughout the year.

Things turned sour when me and Kevin broke up in the beginning of this year. Things just didn't work out. We have no chemistry in terms of personality, but he's pretty damn good looking.

He's half Chinese on his mom's side and he had a nice build. We were on the soccer team together back in high school and it's probably the only thing we have in common. Fucking him was nice, but we were too different in most other aspects of our lives. The breakup was a mutual decision, but things were awkward for a while. Bebe and Kyle got sick of it and left us both alone in the house to talk out our differences and hopefully reconcile. We did so, but with alcohol… and then we just ended up fucking again. We've been fucking ever since. Things seem to go backwards every time we try to go forwards.

I never told Craig that part. He thinks it just happened the one time. I know I don't really owe him anything, but he's my best friend and I do have feelings for him… So, I want to be as honest as I can with him. Then maybe, someday, we can work something out.

I work in a call center and Craig is a veterinary technician at the local animal shelter. I still can't believe he hasn't been fired yet, but his boss seems to have a pretty soft spot for him, though. I guess that's a good thing. Plus, being around animals usually tends to keep him calm.

When Craig gets angry – really angry – it's scary. Sometimes he gets so worked up then he pukes. I don't know why he does that to himself. I don't know why he gets so damn angry. He's fucking explosive. He'll literally attack people on the street if they even look at him wrong.

Apparently he has something called intermittent explosive disorder. I hadn't heard of it until he told me. His parents made him see a doctor when he was sixteen. It was after he got arrested. He's been on random medications for most of his life. He just got put on mood stabilizers a couple weeks ago and they seem to help. They dull some of the anger, but it's still there.

Tonight is like many other nights. I got off work a couple hours ago and now I'm bumming around in the living room having a few beers with Kevin.

I work Monday to Friday from 9-5. I like that because it feels the same as school. The only difference is that I don't have to take my work home with me. That makes it even better. Plus, I'm good at talking to people.

"So, how's Craig?" Kevin asks out of the blue.

"He's all right," I say.

Kevin and Craig aren't friends anymore. They got into a fight and Craig slapped Kevin in the face, turning it into something a hell of a lot worse than an argument. They're about the same height – a mere 5'5 – and they're both pretty slender, but Kevin seemed to have the upper hand. Me and Token pried them apart and their friendship was left in the dirt.

I think Craig grew even more resentful when I started to date Kevin. Now their friendship doesn't have any hope of being rekindled.

Craig hit me once, too. My immediate reaction was to hit him back, but since I'm much stronger than he is he got hurt. The saddest part is that it was mere days after he told me he loved me. I don't even remember what I said to make him so pissed off. Maybe it was just all of his bad emotions catching up to him and he decided to take it out on me since I rejected him.

He doesn't typically get mad enough at me these days to want to actually get physical. I feel like I know how to avoid angering him better now. I think his impulse reaction when someone pisses him off is to hit them. If he tried to hit me again, I don't know what I'd do.

"I forgave him, y'know," Kevin says suddenly.

I glance at him. "You did?"

"Yeah, but he didn't seem to care. So, I stopped trying. I think he hated me for dating you."

I let out a sigh and I can't say I'm entirely shocked at that. "He hasn't changed much since then," I admit to him.

"Do you wish he would?"

"For his own sake, yeah," I say with a bitter laugh. "I just… I know how hard this is on him. He hates the way he feels, but he doesn't know how to control himself. His outbursts always result in him doing things he'd rather not do and then he's overcome with guilt when the anger melts away. He's incapable of exhibiting hindsight. He's completely ruled by his anger."

"He's been that way for as long as I can remember," Kevin murmurs.

"Yeah," I agree. "Even when we were kids, he'd have these insane temper tantrums. It didn't even matter where he was. They happened at school as much as they happened at his home."

"Damn," Kevin says. "Are you still into him?"

"Yeah," I admit.

"Why'd you blow your chance with him?"

"I knew I wouldn't be happy," I say flat-out. "He was too violent back then… and even though he's not as bad anymore, I don't know how he feels about me. I'm too scared to ask. I don't want to upset him or stress him out by mentioning it."

"You should," Kevin murmurs. "If you don't, you'll regret it."

"I know," I relent.

Kevin glances away from me and turns his head to face the television. "If you love him so much, why do you continue to fuck me?"

"I'm not sure," I confess, feeling guilty.

I think the obvious answer is that I'm using him… but I don't want to admit that out loud.

* * *

Tomorrow is a Friday. I meet up with Craig when he's done his shift. The first thing I notice is that his jaw has a purple-yellow-black bruise. I debate on prying, but I don't. I want to see what kind of mood Craig is in first.

So, we get tea at Tweek Bros, since it's a bit late for caffeine.

"How's therapy?" I ask, sitting across from him in the corner of the café.

"Stupid," he says.

Craig goes to psychotherapy. At first, he did group therapy… but that proved to be the worst idea in the world. He ended up throwing a chair at someone.

"Why?" I pry.

"I just don't feel like I'm going anywhere," he mutters.

I nod my head to show him I'm following along to what he's saying. "These things take time."

"Too much time," he mumbles. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about this. Change the subject."

So, I do.

"Got your eye on anyone new as of late?" I ask him.

"No," he says flatly and then it gets quiet. I'm not sure what else to say and clearly Craig senses this because, in a hopeless tone of voice, he asks me, "Why doesn't anyone want to be with me?"

I give him a somewhat piteous look and say, "Because they're scared that if the nature of your relationship changes then the dynamic will, too… and things might happen to trigger your anger even more. They don't want to get hurt."

"I don't actually _want_ to hurt people!" he snaps impatiently. "Fuck, Clyde, why do you think I've never dated anyone? I've never even been asked out… People are scared of me and that's justifiable. I'm volatile, so maybe it's best they stay away. Then I won't hurt anyone. Everyone I've ever had feelings for has pushed me away because they're scared of me and it feels bad!"

"They're scared FOR you, too," I point out.

He scoffs at that. "Not like it's any better…"

"Yeah," I say quietly. I want to ask him if he still loves me, but I don't. Instead, I just say quiet.

He gives me a somewhat solemn look before asking, "Why do I get so angry?"

"I dunno, dude," I respond. "It could be a myriad of reasons."

"Myriad," he repeats, snorting. "Fancy word for you to be using."

I give him a dull look and then say, "Lack of sleep, low frustration tolerance, suppressing your emotions, low self-esteem, things like abuse or bullying… That's why I think you have anger problems."

Craig stays up too late. It takes him a long time to fall asleep. A doctor once prescribed him sleeping pills, but he said they had too many negative side-effects, so he stopped. In the Tucker house, touchy-feely emotions aren't welcome. They're all uncomfortable with showing emotion, especially sadness. Craig doesn't think too well of himself, either. I don't think he was praised a lot growing up. I don't think his parents give him much attention at all. They work a lot and when they don't work, they're too wrapped up in their own lives. Craig was the kid on the playground who was bullying everyone else, but he was never bullied himself. His parents fought a lot growing up, so it was probably just something he learned. Children are impressionable. Monkey see, monkey do.

I know his parents love him; they're just not a very open family. They don't talk. Plus, they're sort of ignorant when it comes to parenting. I don't know why they wanted to have children. Maybe they didn't anticipate how difficult it was going to be. They adopted Craig from Romania. They didn't think they'd be able to have kids at all, but a few years later Ruby came.

"I need someone who is able to subdue me when I'm having a rage fit," he says, "but will have the decency not to use it any other time."

"It's not really about what you want think you need, Craig," I tell him. "It's about what you want – _who_ you want… and honestly, you can't really control who you fall for."

"Trust me, I know," he mutters. "If I could, then I'd force myself not to want you anymore."

I'm somewhat surprised at that. "So, you still love me?" I ask.

"Yeah," he confesses. "I probably always will… because out of all the people I've felt something for, you're the only person who hasn't walked off… and I guess that's my fault, 'cause I'm always so crazy. I drive everyone off, but still… I'm glad you stayed. So, thanks."

I smile a small smile. "Sure… and for the record, I love you, too."

He forces a smile in return, but falters. "Then why don't you want to be with me?"

"I guess, like I vaguely said earlier, I'm scared," I admit. "I don't know what would happen if things changed – if our relationship changed. I don't want to do things that might piss you off worse."

"Yeah," he whispers. "I can't control myself… but you can control me. Physically. You're big. Strong."

"I hate doing that, man," I say piteously. "I feel bad when I have to forcibly subdue you."

"It's for the best," he argues. "Then I don't have to feel all that guilt later when I fuck up beyond repair. I don't hurt people. I don't hurt myself."

"You're being oddly calm about this," I mention somewhat cautiously. I'm used to him being a hell of a lot more defensive about this stuff.

He shrugs. "Therapy is starting to help… a little bit. Plus, the pills."

I give a long nod. I guess that makes sense. "So, uh… Where did the bruise come from?" I ask, pointing to my jaw for reference.

"I got mad," he says vaguely.

"And…?" I urge.

He rolls his eyes at me, gritting his teeth before saying, "And I hit myself."

I wince. He must have done it at least a few times because the bruise is pretty big and painful looking.

"I'm sorry," I say. "Next time you feel like that, you should call me. I'll come over."

He scoffs. "Clyde, that's the last thing on my mind when I get mad. I'm not thinking rationally. I just want to feel relief, so I let myself blow up. It physically hurts me more to even try to stifle my anger."

I relent and I nod my head, unable to argue.

"Do you think we could ever be together?" he asks, turning the conversation back towards out potential relationship yet again.

"I don't know, dude," I confess.

"You make me forget that I fucking hate myself," he says wearily, "and I know that people aren't supposed to be 'medicine'… but you honestly make me feel better."

"I'm fucking Kevin," I confess out of the blue since all the things he's saying are making me feel guilty.

"What?" he immediately spits out. I can sense him growing hostile.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly.

His jaw tightens and he leans forward, rubbing his palms against his forehead. He lets out a string of deep, heavy breaths and it's making me nervous. When he finally raises his head, he stares at me with an expression I can't read. When I think he's about to lurch forward and strangle me, he doesn't. He just gets up and leaves the café, abandoning his drink in the process. I do the same, following after him without hesitance.

It's snowing outside and it's dim. I squint as the snow hits my face.

"Craig, wait!" I call, catching up with him.

"I feel stupid!" he shouts at me, laughing bitterly. "God! Why did I think YOU would actually be interested in ME?"

"Because I am!" I insist. "I don't like Kevin like that. It's just physical."

"Then what the fuck are you DOING, Clyde?" he shouts some more. "Why are you FUCKING someone you don't even LIKE?!"

"I don't know," I murmur. "I guess I just want comfort and he's familiar… safe. I know him and he knows me."

Craig grits his teeth and his eyes grow wet. "Why can't _I_ be the one that provides you with that feeling?"

I don't answer him. I can't. So, instead, I just move forward and wrap my arms around him. He sinks into me, but his arms remain limp at his sides.

I don't know how long we're standing like this in the middle of the street, but eventually he pushes me away and we continue down the street.

When we near the Tucker residence, Craig starts palming his forehead again.

"You okay?" I ask.

He rubs his temples. "My head feels heavy. Tension, probably…"

"Ah," I sympathize.

Craig gets a lot of headaches and suffers from heart palpitations all because he's too damn angry. Negative emotions can put a strain on a person's body.

"Want to come inside?" he offers when we're standing at the bottom of his driveway.

"Sure," I accept.

We kick off our winter gear and head to the kitchen. He gets me a glass of water before getting himself one and then we move upstairs.

There's an assortment of prescription pills on Craig's nightstand. I can't help but wonder if his doctor even knows he's taking half of them. Some of them, he probably got illegally.

Craig has always had a bit of a pill problem. In high school, it was amphetamines. He said it was because he couldn't pay attention in class, but then he started eating them like candy. It became a problem.

"Dude…" I murmur. "What are all these?"

"Some of them are old," he insists.

"Why haven't you chucked them?" I ask.

He shrugs. "It's… hard to throw pills away for me. I'm supposed to return them to the pharmacy, but I'm lazy."

"You're not thinking of taking them all, are you?"

"No!" he shouts. "God, Clyde, I'm not gonna fucking kill myself!"

"Then let's just throw them out," I say. "Flush 'em or something."

He looks hesitant.

"Talk to me…" I plead.

"What do you want me to say?" he murmurs the question.

"Anything you want to say," I admit. "Just tell me something that fucking matters. Tell me a secret."

"A secret?" he questions.

"Yeah," I say, "a secret. Tell me something I don't know."

He presses his lips together, glancing off into empty space. "My mom would lock me in the closet when I misbehaved as a kid," he says suddenly. "It was cramped and I hated it, but I was such an out of control child. I'd threaten to hurt Ruby a lot. I guess they just didn't know how to deal with me. I've always been angry and when they'd lock me away I'd just end up hurting myself until they were forced to release me."

It's heavy, but I'm glad he got the words out. I want to understand him. I want to understand why he is the way he is.

And I guess that's why he flipped when he was in the back of the police cruiser. It's a cramped, enclosed space. There isn't much room. He is probably a little claustrophobic now.

"I'm sorry," I empathize.

He shrugs. "It is what it is. My dad used to drink a lot, too. He goes to AA now, but I remember him hitting me a few times when I was younger. He was always really drunk and I would start shit with him, egging him on just to be an asshole…"

"He's the adult," I reason. "That was no reason for him to hit you. You're his son…"

"I know," Craig says quickly, "but my parents aren't the best parents. Honestly, they're pretty clueless when it comes to parenting. That's why me and Ruby are so fucked up…" He wraps his arms around himself in what looks like an unconscious gesture.

"You're not fucked up," I insist.

He scoffs. "Yeah, _right_."

I wander closer towards his nightstand and pick up some of the pill bottles.

There are antidepressants, anticonvulsants, antipsychotics, sleeping pills, mood stabilizers and then a bunch of other names I don't recognize.

"Shit," I whisper. "Man, you can't be taking all this shit at once…"

"I'm not," he bites out. He moves forward and grabs them all from me. "I'm on lithium right now and it's the first pill that actually seems to be working. It makes me… calmer. Funny, it's the last medication I was prescribed because the doctor didn't think it'd do anything for me… but it has."

I hold my hand out. "Can you give me the ones you don't need?"

He lets out a defeated sigh before handing over the bottles he just grabbed from me before handing me the rest from his nightstand.

"Jesus," I mutter, fumbling them all. "Where'd you even get half of these?" I ask as I wander out of the room.

"Most are from my doctor over the year," he admits as he follows, "and some aren't. I've just been so fucking desperate, I decided to try other medications. I went to see a dealer, but none of them really worked. Anyway, I'm only taking lithium now. It seems to be better so far."

"Christ," I mutter, pouring the first bottle into the toilet and flushing. You're probably not supposed to do this, but I don't know what else do to with this shit. "Don't go near drug dealers, dude. Too many of them are total scum that'll take advantage of you."

"It was fine, Clyde," he insists wearily, watching as I dispose of his old prescriptions. "Besides, I went with Jason. He knew the guy."

"Good," I say. "So, you didn't hafta do anything weird?"

"Like WHAT?" he exclaims.

"Like sex!" I shout back.

He gives me a weird look. "What…?!"

"That shit happens sometimes," I say.

He grimaces. "Well, not to me."

"Are you a virgin, dude?" I ask him.

"Yes," he bites out. "It's not a big deal, Clyde. I haven't actually been close to anyone in my entire life apart from being in fights."

"I know," I agree. I'm not surprised at all. I don't think Craig even knows anything about sex. Our Sex Ed in school was a huge joke. They didn't talk about much of anything. The entire discussion revolved around reproduction. So heteronormative. No mention of any erogenous zones. No mention of birth control or how to use a condom.

When I'm finished, I toss the empty bottles in the garbage and we return back to Craig's bedroom.

"How do two guys even have sex?" he asks out of the blue, sitting on the edge of his mattress. "I mean, I know you do it in the ass, but… like, how does it fit?"

I want to laugh out loud because he's so fucking naïve for a nineteen year old, but I stay quiet because I know it means a lot that he's confiding in me and I don't want to ruin it.

"Well," I start, sitting with him, "it stretches a bit, of course. You gotta relax, though… like you're taking a shit. Tensing up is bad news. Makes it hurt more. There are lots of kinds of sex guys can have. Not just anal… Plus, lots of straight couples do anal, too. It's not really a gay thing."

"I know that," he says somewhat impatiently.

I smile slightly and then I give him my best explanation, trying not to skim over the more dirty details of it in terms of sanitation. Craig looks totally turned off.

"Ew…" he murmurs airily when I'm done. "And you've done that?"

"Many times."

"With Kevin?"

"Yeah," I say. "Well, and Bebe a few times."

He nods his head slowly and then stares down at his feet.

"Uh, anyway…" I start. "I should head out since it's getting late… but I'm glad we got to talk, even if it was about anal sex." I'm trying to keep things light, but it isn't working.

"Sure, whatever," he murmurs, looking mildly dejected. I don't know why.

He walks me to the door and waves as I leave. He waits until I'm at the bottom of the driveway before he shuts the door.

I was being honest when I said I loved him. I was also being honest when I said I was scared.

* * *

The following day is Craig's day off. After my shift, I change into sweatpants and head out to his house for a surprise visit. This time, I take my car.

His driveway is empty, so his parents are likely out or at work. I park and knock before letting myself in.

"Craig!" I call.

"In the kitchen!" he calls back.

I kick off my shoes and drape my coat over the railing before following the sound of his voice. I see him in the kitchen sitting at the table eating a sandwich. He's still wearing the clothes I'm assuming he slept in – flannel, plaid pajama pants and a loose t-shirt that once belonged to me. It's a bit big and hangs off his shoulder. I used to give him a lot of my old clothes growing up because when I kept growing, he didn't. His hair is messy, like he just woke up even though it's late in the evening. His sleep schedule gets pretty messed up sometimes.

"Hey," I say.

"Hi," he responds.

I sit across from him and ask, "How do you feel?"

"Dandy," he says, but I can tell it's not a sincere reply.

I wait for him to finish eating. I watch him eat and he seems to sense it because his movements grow cautious.

"Do you want anything…?" he offers slowly.

"Nah," I say.

"Then why are you staring?"

"Dunno," I admit. "I guess I just like watching you."

"Creepy loser," he murmurs.

When he's finished, he rises and puts the plate in the sink before nodding at me to follow him. As we're heading up the stairs, I notice that Craig's right foot us bandaged and he's walking so gingerly on it.

"Dude, what happened to your foot?" I ask.

"I broke a cup late last night," he says vaguely.

"Why?" I pry.

"I spilled tea and got mad and just smashed it," he explains dully. "Then I ended up stepping on a shard of glass I couldn't spot."

"Shit," I murmur as we turn into his bedroom.

"At least it wasn't in public or anything," he reasons, sitting on his bed. "I get so fucking humiliated and guilty when I fuck up around other people." He looks frustrated with himself.

"Yeah," I whisper.

He glances at me and then he glances away, bringing his legs up onto his bed and shifting towards the center. "When are you going to answer the question I keep asking you?"

"What do you mean?" I pry.

He lets out an impatient sigh, criss-crossing his legs. "Is there any hope of us ever being together? You keep saying you don't know and that you're scared, but that's not an answer… It's not much of anything."

"I have no idea what to do," I confess. "This is such a fucking major step… I don't know what the transition from best friends to boyfriends would be like. I don't know if it would take a toll. I don't know if we're a good match."

"Why can't we just try?" he murmurs.

"Because I don't want to hurt you and I don't want to fuck up our friendship," I try to reason.

"You're so indecisive," he whispers, finally raising his head to look at me. "I'm willing to try. Why aren't you? Is it because I have too many deep-seeded issues?"

"Honestly… maybe," I admit. "I feel like I tip-toe around you and I don't want to have to tip-toe around the person I'm dating… y'know?"

"Then push that aside for a second," he starts. "If I didn't have anger problems, then where would the two of us be right now?"

"Maybe we'd be together…" I say.

He lets out a sigh and his eyes glaze over. "Yeah, great, so… it's my fault."

"It's no one's fault," I argue gently. "I accept your anger as a part of who you are… I accept _you_."

"I don't WANT to be defined by my anger, Clyde!" he raises his shaky voice. "It's NOT who I am!" I stare at him, unsure of what to say at this point. The first tear falls a split second later and he hurries to roughly swipe it away. "For fuck's sake!"

"Cry, dude," I say, since I can tell he wants to… and, more than that, he needs to. I don't think he's cried in ages. "It's okay."

He stares upward in a pleading sort of way before inevitably giving in. He slumps forward, putting his elbow on his knee and his face in his palm. He starts sobbing openly a moment later, mumbling things like, "Damn it," and "Fuck." His hands worm their way into his hair and he lurches forward, pressing his face into his mattress. His shoulders are shaking and I have no fucking idea how to comfort him.

I hesitantly put a hand on his shaky shoulder, trying to telepathically communicate to him that I'm here for him – no matter what.

I don't know how long he's crying, but it feels like forever. If he keeps it up, he'll get sick and probably hurl.

"Craig," I say his name, trying to get him to raise his head and look at me. "Come on, say something…"

"I love you…" he confesses between sobs, "and it hurts…"

"Yeah, I know," I whisper.

I wish I could make things okay. I wish I could somehow, magically take away all his anger. I think he'd feel a hell of a lot better about himself and life in general. He'd feel lighter.

I put my hands on his shaky shoulders, forcing him into a sitting position. He moves lifelessly, sniffling and letting out miserable sounds.

"Come on," I say with utmost desperation. "Please, look at me."

He does so begrudgingly and he looks like a hot mess. His eyes are swollen, bloodshot, his nose is red and his face is flushed… but somehow, he still looks perfect to me. He's a pretty guy, even now. I'm a sucker for that thick, black hair and those tragic, blue eyes.

He sniffles loudly, visibly trying to calm or stifle himself. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face.

I cup his cheeks, smearing the tear stains with my thumbs.

"I feel like shit," he whispers in declaration.

* * *

I spend the rest of the day with Craig. We watch Netflix and talk about simpler things. I even manage to get a smile out of him. He's himself again – the way he is when the anger isn't there.

Around 9PM, we crack open some beers. We don't get drunk since we both work in the morning, but I can tell we both feel _good_. Towards the end of yet another movie, Craig kisses me. It's sudden, but I don't dare push him away. I open my mouth and let him in. He tastes like beer. I probably do, too. I can tell he hasn't had much experience with kissing, but I don't mind. There's something endearing about his naivety and I like knowing that I'm his first. So, I let him take control of the kiss and touch me in a way he probably hasn't touched anyone.

When we pull apart, our mouths are spitty. I feel like I'm at the point of no return with Craig and my relationship with him.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks me.

"You," I admit.

"What about me?" he pries.

"I'm trying to figure out where we go from here… and what would be best."

"Who cares?"

Then I realize that he's right. If I never give this a shot, I'll always be wondering. Maybe it's something I'll live to regret. Maybe he'll move on and I would miss my chance. I don't want that to happen.

So, I say it – "You're right."

He smiles faintly, but I can tell it's forced. All of his smiles are forced, even when he's happy. It isn't in him to smile and I find that kind of sad.

"Can we do it some more?" he asks, a drunken flush spreading across his face.

Instead of answering him, I lean forward again and push my lips against his, parting them. The movie plays in the background, but neither of us is listening.

* * *

We don't discuss labels, but clearly things have changed between us.

Since I had a few beers, Craig doesn't let me drive. I spend the night in his bed like we used to when we were little.

When I wake up, my boner is pressing between his ass cheeks. Since he's still unconscious, I'm quick to move away.

The digital clock on the nightstand reads 6:47 AM.

I get out of bed and move across the hall, trying to will away my boner so I can take a piss. Before I reach the bathroom, Ruby's door opens and she eyes me with crossed arms.

"Er, hi, Ruby…" I greet slowly.

"Nice erection, pervert," she snorts, wandering into the bathroom before I can get there.

"It's morning!" I try to justify my state.

"I'm gonna piss, since I doubt you'll be able to aim properly with that thing." She cackles and then shuts the door in my face.

God, Craig's sister is such a little shit!

I pace quietly, thinking about random things that don't really matter. I flex my arms, trying to get the blood to rush elsewhere so my erection will go away. Ruby takes her sweet time, but when she's finished my boner has been tamed.

She exits the room, all done up and ready for the day. She offers me a cynical smile – the same one Craig likes to wear – and then wanders back into her room.

I slip into the bathroom and urinate. After flushing and washing my hands, I wander back into bed with Craig.

Since I'm pretty much wide awake by now, I doubt I'll be able to fall back to sleep. I grab my phone and play with it for a few minutes as I watch Craig sleep. He looks peaceful. His entire face is relaxed. There's no anger and no knots in his expression. His thick eyelashes are fanned out and he looks pretty. His chest rises and falls slowly as quiet breaths escape his slightly parted lips.

I debate on waking him since I have work at nine, but I don't. Not yet.

I don't know how long I'm watching (long enough to feel like Edward fucking Cullen) but soon he stirs.

"Did you sleep okay?" I ask him.

He lets out a groggy moan as he sits up. "Yeah, I think the alcohol helped," he admits in a fatigue-laced voice. "I fell asleep quicker than usual."

"That's fine as long as it doesn't become a habit," I say.

He shoots me a dull look before getting out of bed and stretching. "I have work today."

"Me, too," I admit.

He turns to face me. "Maybe I'll see you later…?"

I smile and say, "Yeah, for sure."

With that, we part ways and I head home to get ready for yet another day of work.

* * *

On the weekend, I take Craig out on a date. We go to a nice restaurant and then we head back to my place. Bebe, Kyle and Kevin are all here, unfortunately. We spot them as soon as we enter since the front entrance connects to the living room.

"Hi, Craig!" Bebe greets Craig happily. "Been a while."

Kevin and Kyle wave, but they don't say anything.

Craig nods his head, but that's it. He steps out of his shoes and refuses to even make eye contact with them. So, I don't push and neither do they.

"Want anything to drink?" I offer him, hanging up our coats and putting our boots on the mat.

"I'm fine," he says and I can tell that he wants to just head straight to my room so we can be alone. So, we do.

I close the door once we're inside and we sit on my bed.

"Do you ever talk to them about me?" he asks suddenly.

"Sometimes," I admit.

"Well, don't," he commands. "I hate the thought of you confiding in them with stuff about me. Plus, I know none of them like me. So, they probably just talk a lot of shit about me."

"They don't," I say truthfully. "No one hates you, Craig. You're the only one that hates you."

He stares at me in a way that tells me I should shut the hell up, so I do.

"You should forgive Kevin," I add out of the blue, since we're kind of on topic.

Craig gives me a look of blatant irritation. "I can't forgive him because I'm jealous of him and it makes me want to throw up!"

"Dude, don't be insecure," I try to reason.

"Clyde, obviously I'm fucking insecure!" he snaps. "You live with two people you used to fuck on a regular basis! Anyone would be insecure!"

"Try not to be," I reiterate. "You just need to trust me when I say that nothing is going on and nothing will ever go on."

He grits his teeth and then closes his eyes, letting out a string of deep breaths. "Shut up, shut up…" he murmurs in a barely-audible voice. I can't help but wonder if he's talking to me or himself.

"Craig?"

"Shut up!" he shouts, raising his head. "I'm trying to calm myself down, so shut the fuck up and stop talking!"

He bends over, tangling his fingers in his hair.

I wrap my arms around him, lying down and bringing him with me so he's draped on top of me. I can feel his heart beating and it's beating damn fast. Faster than it should be. He doesn't protest. He just lies limp, but his breath comes in heavy.

The anger takes a while to wane, but when it does Craig rolls off of me so we're lying side by side.

"Sorry," he mutters, not sounding all that sorry.

"It's fine, dude."

* * *

Around midnight, I drop Craig off at his house. When I return home, everyone in the living room looks curious. I smile somewhat sheepishly.

"Is Craig okay?" Bebe asks, deciding to be the first to talk.

"He's upset," I admit to her, "but he'll be okay."

"He always is, huh?" Kyle adds.

"Yeah," I say, though I'm not entirely sure. I glance at Kevin and nod for him to follow me, "Let's talk."

He stands up, following after me. I think he probably knows what's on my mind. As soon as we're in my bedroom, he says, "So, this is about Craig, right?"

"Yeah," I admit. "We, uh… Me and you, we can't fool around anymore."

He looks somewhat dejected. "Honestly, there are some lingering feelings on my part… and I kinda always hoped you'd pick me in the end 'cause Craig is crazy as fuck, but that's probably not going to happen."

"I'm really sorry, Kevin," I say sincerely. "I took advantage of you."

Kevin rolls his eyes, rubbing his arm. "Nah, you didn't. Don't say it like that."

"Maybe, somewhere deep down, I kind of knew you still had feelings for me," I muse aloud, feeling guilt-ridden.

"Well… I forgive you," he says. "I want you to be happy… and if you're going to be happy with a guy like Craig, then do it."

I force a smile. "I wish you guys would make up…"

Kevin shakes his head. "It'll probably never happen at this point, Clyde. Sorry. There's too much bad blood… but I guess he can feel superior knowing he's the one you chose. Not me."

"You'll find someone," I promise him.

He forces a flat smile. "Someday, maybe."

* * *

After getting Craig from therapy, we go to Tweek Bros for a pick-me-up.

"Are we boyfriends?" Craig asks, deciding to be the first to bring it up.

"Yeah, if you want to be," I say.

"Do YOU want to be?"

"Yeah, obviously."

"What changed your mind?" he asks.

I wrinkle my nose. "You might not want to hear it… but it's something Kevin said a little while ago. He told me if I didn't smarten up, then I'd regret it. So, I kind of realized he was right and that I couldn't let my fear get the best of me. I want to be with you, so I pushed it to the side. When you kissed me, I kind of realized it was all worth it."

"Then stop tip-toeing around me," Craig says out of the blue as we grab seats.

"Is that a good idea?" I ask.

"It's necessary," he insists. "You said you don't want to be with me if you can't be real… So, try to be real. I mean, we're in a somewhat problematic relationship to begin with. I don't really know how much crappier things can get."

I snort at that. "We're not that bad, dude. We hardly fight. We just kind of bicker a bit… but all right. I'll be more open and stuff."

"If I flip out, hold me down," he says.

"But won't that make you angrier?" I wonder.

"I just don't want to hurt you or anyone else," he mumbles. "It has happened in the past and it just makes me hate myself so much… It might make me angrier in the moment, but I'll be grateful afterwards. I'm giving you permission."

"Yeah," I sympathize. "I, uh… I spoke to Kevin. We're not going to fool around anymore, of course."

"Good," he says tartly.

"I want you guys to make up…" I mumble.

Craig rolls his eyes at that. "No. It's too late."

* * *

It takes us a while to start talking about actually having sex. It takes us even longer to actually do it. Craig makes the first move when we're in my bedroom and I'm hesitant, but he seems sure.

He feels so small. For a while, he was the tallest kid. He used it to his advantage. Now he's done growing and he ended up being on the shorter end of the spectrum – smaller than the average guy, but taller than the average girl.

When we fuck, we do it slow and soft. He writhes around beneath me, letting out soft, pleasure sounds.

Everything seems perfect until we both cum. Craig's face blanks and he sits up as soon as I pull out. It makes me immediately wonder if I did something wrong, if I somehow fucked up.

"Craig…?" I say his name, wanting to be sure he's okay because he really doesn't look it. I dispose of the condom and then sit back down with him.

He remains expressionless as he glances at me. Something about his gaze makes me feel even more unsure. I've never been able to read him. That's why I'm constantly asking him questions. Otherwise there's no way I can know how he's feeling.

"Are you okay?" I ask him.

His eyebrows draw together, but he doesn't speak yet. After a few minutes of silence, I bring the sheets up and drape them over his shoulders. "I'm just thinking," he finally says. "It hurt," he mumbles, "but I guess that is normal, especially for a first time."

"Sorry," I apologize.

He shrugs lazily. "It's okay… it got better."

"Are you okay?" I ask again.

He laughs bitterly and shies away from me, staring down at his hands as he fidgets. "I don't know. I feel kind of embarrassed and ashamed and naïve and stupid and really overwhelmed."

"Maybe we went too far too fast…" I say.

"God, I'm such a baby…" he mutters, berating himself.

"No, you're not," I promise. "It's okay if you weren't ready. Sex is a big step, especially the kind of sex we just had."

He flushes, bringing his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them before perching his chin on his knees.

"Was I bad?" he asks in a mumble, sounding annoyed at himself.

"No, you were good," I say truthfully.

He closes his eyes and I rub his back, but I don't say anything else.

Craig is so sensitive and emotionally fragile. One wrong move and he snaps like a twig. I've seen it happen loads of times, but never quite like this. Usually it's the anger, but lately it's something else. Maybe I should have expected this, though. After the anger is gone, maybe all that's left is some sort of lingering sadness - yet another thing he'll have to learn to cope with.

* * *

He spends the night. It's past 12AM now. I know it'd be a fatal move to kick him out after sleeping with him for the first time… and even worse since he's feeling unsure. But it's fine since I want him to stay. I always want him to stay.

He's so emotional. I guess I've always known that… and I still want to be with him, so I guess that says something.

"I love you," he mumbles groggily.

"I love you, too," I say.

"Even though I'm crazy?"

I chuckle at that. "You're not crazy, but even if you were… yeah."

* * *

In the morning, Kevin is in the kitchen drinking coffee. Bebe and Kyle must have left for work already. When me and Craig saunter in, I expect things to get awkward. I expect Craig to start shit for no apparent reason, but he doesn't. Instead, he's quiet. He's probably exercising intense amounts of self-control.

"There's extra coffee in the pot," Kevin says. "If either of you want some…"

I smile and Craig simply nods, remaining expressionless.

I guess, for now, this will do. Maybe, someday, they'll be friends again. Then again, maybe they're just doing this for me – pushing their differences aside and being civil. Nonetheless, I'm thankful.

* * *

We drink coffee. We make breakfast. We shower, we get dressed and then we pile into my car.

"Am I easier to be around?" Craig asks out of the blue, staring out the window and away from me. "Be honest."

"You seem a little less angry," I say, choosing my words carefully.

He scoffs. "Reading between the lines, I'll admit that's a yes. "

I smile faintly. "Fine, yes…"

I see him turn to me from the corner of my eye. "It's fine," he says. "It's taking a lot of self-control for me not to blow up lately… and I hate to credit the pills, but I actually think they're helping me keep control."

"Then that's what matters," I say simply. "Don't let the stigma of prescription drugs get to you. If they make you feel better, then that's not a bad thing."

"They don't just make me feel a little better… they help me feel a little more normal," he admits, "but I'm going to keep going to therapy, too. Then maybe someday I won't need the drugs."

I smile at that, keeping my eyes on the road. "I'm happy to hear that. Stay committed."

Soon enough, we're turning up the cul-de-sac Craig lives on. I pull into his driveway and park in front of his house.

"Thanks for the ride," he says to me. He pecks me on the lips and smiles before getting out of the car. I watch him until he's inside and I, too, feel myself smiling as I head to work.

It was all a lot easier than I thought it would be. The transition felt natural. Things haven't been difficult. I guess that's a good sign. This is how things SHOULD feel.

.

.

.

 **Epilogue.**

Things are different now, but I mean that in the very best way.

I've been dating Craig for a year. We just celebrated our anniversary with a quiet night in Craig's new apartment. At age twenty, he decided to move out and get his own place. He lives in a small, modest one bedroom apartment in a newer area of town.

He's less angry. He's less insecure. He still has temper tantrums, but they're few and far between. Sometimes he tells me I should move out of my share-house and come live with him. I think I'd like to do that… someday. Someday soon.

Things with him feel real. I can feel it. I've never felt this way about anyone before. I really, really fell for him. I don't have to hide things from him the way I did when we were just friends. I can be honest with him and know that, though he might get upset, he isn't going to do anything stupid.

Most things are a gradual process. Things with Craig were no different. All I needed was patience… and the will to take a bit of a risk. Craig is the one who gave me the push and I'm glad he did.

"What'cha thinking about?" Craig asks me, pulling me away from me thoughts.

"You," I say, cooing at him.

Right now, we're sitting in his bedroom with our tired limbs tangled. We're kind of sweaty, but I don't mind. Good sex will do that to yah. Craig is no longer insecure.

Craig rolls his eyes, gently nudging me in the stomach with his elbow. "Really, what are you thinking about?"

"You," I insist again, in a less mushy tone.

"What kind of stuff are you thinking about me?" he pries.

"Good things," I tell him. "Mostly just how much I love you."

"Aw," he coos back (sarcastically), reaching a hand up and pinching my cheek. "How cute you are."

"I try," I simper.

He smiles at me – _really_ smiles – and says, "I love you, too."

And I know it's true .

 **Fin.**


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